The Guidance Counselor The scent of fresh coffee and cheap carpet fill my office. The fluorescent lights hum overhead as I glance at the well-worn chair sitting across from me, occupied by a nervous middle schooler twisting the sleeves of her hoodie. Her backpack slumps on the floor, looking just as tired as she does. I shuffle some papers, not really needing to, just giving her a moment. “I hear you’ve struggled to keep your grades up and make friends.” “Why would I try?” she huffs, staring at the floor, “We’re just gonna move again in a year.” I remember the weight of instability, the exhaustion of constantly adjusting, the quiet frustration of starting over when you barely got started. I lean back in my chair. “Did you know I’m an MK?” “You’re a Military Kid?” She eyes me up and down like I’m crazy. “You don’t look like it.” I chuckle. “Not exactly. I’m a Missionary Kid. But moving all the time? Yeah, I know what that’s like. I had to leave the entire continent.” “And?” She crosses her arms defensively. “And it’s hard," I admit. "Moving, starting over. Feeling lost. But it gets better.” “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Let me tell you a story of back when I was your age, and I had just moved. If you’re interested, of course.” She sighs but doesn’t object. I take that as a win. Oh, to be an angsty teen again. “I was thirteen when we moved to The Gambia. Whole new country, new culture, and no friends. Worst part? School.” “How is that the worst part?” She lifts an eyebrow. I smirk, “Imagine sitting at a desk, staring at a math book that might as well be written in hieroglyphics. Outside, kids are laughing and having fun with their school friends but in a completely foreign language. Honestly, I wasn’t sure where I’d rather be at their school or hiding away at home. “I went from sitting in a classroom with teachers and classmates to sitting alone with a pile of books. The local schools didn’t teach in English, so I had to homeschool. Just me, a textbook, and stifling African heat. I thought it would be fine until my grades turned into Cs and Ds.” Her eyes widen. “Yikes.” “Big yikes. I started believing I just wasn’t smart anymore. That maybe I’d been fooling myself all along. I’d stare at my math book for hours, but nothing made sense. I couldn’t focus. Everything felt…impossible.” “One day, my mom sat me down. She didn’t scold or reprimand me. She said, ‘You’re not struggling because you’re stupid. You’re struggling because this is new. Every challenge is just an adjustment period waiting to be conquered. You’re not failing. You’re adapting. And adaptation takes time.’” I stop my story and look at the girl across from me, hoping she understands. She frowns. “So… what happened? Did it get easier?” I smile. "Not right away. “I had to change my approach. I figured out a schedule. Asked for help when I needed it. Took things one step at a time instead of panicking over everything at once. And guess what?” She crosses her arms. “What?” “My grades went back up. And more importantly, I realized I wasn’t the problem. The situation was. I just needed to learn how to handle change instead of letting it handle me.” She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just sits with it. Then, finally: “So… maybe I can figure it out too?” I smile. “I think you already have.”

Spending my younger teenage years in rural West Africa, I saw firsthand what true poverty looked like. The village where I stayed was struggling, yet inside our compound, a place once housing multiple families, piled unused items gathering dust. Books so old they were falling apart, newspapers no one read, batteries we no longer needed, etc.. Meanwhile, the villagers had next to nothing. Seeing this stark contrast, I knew I had to do something. Instead of letting these items go to waste, I proposed an idea: a free drawing where locals could take whatever they needed. With the help of a long-term friend and nurse who spoke the language, we spread the word and organized the event. I sorted through the accumulated items, ensuring they were useful in some way. Even if that meant repurposing deteriorating books as wrapping paper for local bread vendors. Working alongside my parents, the nurse, and a few locals, we set up a system where people could claim items they needed. What started as a simple cleanup of forgotten supplies turned into an opportunity to provide essentials to a community in need. Through this experience I realized how even small efforts could have a real impact. More importantly, I saw that poverty wasn’t just about a lack of things; it was about a lack of opportunities. Giving away extra supplies helped in the short term, but what these communities truly needed were jobs and sustainable solutions. That is why this scholarship is so important to me. Attending Liberty University, with its strong emphasis on volunteer work, will allow me to continue making a difference. In the future, I want to go beyond temporary aid and help create lasting change. If I had unlimited resources, I would focus on job creation, helping to provide the local villages the skills and opportunities they desperately need. At the end of the day, solving poverty is not about giving people things. It is about empowering them to build better futures for themselves. That is exactly what I intend to do.

Most people like stories because they’re an escape. I like them because they’re a trap. While some see stories as entertainment, I see them as a battleground for ideas, morality, and human nature. A good story lures you in, convinces you of one truth, then flips everything upside down. It makes you question everything you thought you knew. That’s the kind of writing I chase. Not the kind that comforts but the kind that unsettles. I write because I want to explore the complexity of people. The way a friendly smile hides manipulation. The way monsters can be more human than their victims. The way we justify the terrible things we do. I write not only to create worlds but to expose them. I craft psychological horror because nothing is scarier than the human mind. True terror doesn’t come from supernatural creatures but from the mind’s fragility. Monsters are imaginary. People and their willingness to do evil aren’t. I love peeling back the layers of a character’s psyche, watching as paranoia, guilt, or power eats them alive. I’ve spent years crafting characters who lie to themselves more than they do others. Who do terrible things for the sake of justice or greed or primal need. My stories aren’t about good versus evil. They’re about the gray area in between. The fine line between sanity and madness. All because, in real life, that line is thinner than most people want to admit. However, I don’t just write for myself or mere entertainment. I want to challenge the way society thinks. I want readers to put down my book and feel unsettled, not because of the horror itself, but because they recognize something familiar in these immoral characters. I want to force people to ask hard questions: How much of our morality is real, and how much is just self-preservation? Are we truly better than the people we condemn? If pushed far enough, what are we capable of? Am I really so different than these characters? Writing isn’t just something I do; it’s something I will always do. In college, I plan to finish my four-book series, push my writing further, and eventually publish my work. While I plan to major in psychology, I will take writing courses that push me outside my comfort zone, refine my style, and connect me with writers who will sharpen my craft. Writing is the closest thing we have to immortality. Stories live on long after we’re gone. They shape people’s thoughts, emotions, and even their worldviews. Ryan Stripling believed that “words create worlds,” and he was right, but the best stories don’t just build worlds. They unravel them.

Growing up, I saw firsthand how in-person and online bullying can shatter a student’s confidence and sense of security. That is why my goal is to become a middle school guidance counselor who actively works to create safe, supportive environments for students. Middle school is a critical time in shaping their development, with social pressures, academic stress, and the ever-growing presence of online interactions. I plan to create programs that address all types of bullying, helping students develop resilience, confidence, and the skills they need to stand up for themselves and others. Every student deserves to feel safe whether in the classroom or behind a screen. My passion for protecting children from bullying is rooted in years of community involvement. At my church, I have mentored children, helping them navigate both academic and personal challenges. I’ve led discussions on mental health, conflict resolution, and online safety. Watching kids support and uplift each other has shown me that early intervention and open conversations are key to stopping bullying before it escalates. When students feel heard and valued, they are less likely to contribute to a toxic environment and more likely to stand up for others. One experience that solidified my passion for stopping bullying was when I mentored a 12-year-old girl who was struggling with relentless teasing. Classmates constantly mocked her appearance because she had a cleft palate. The bullying followed her home through social media, where cruel messages filled her inbox. She felt trapped and afraid that blocking them would make her even more unlikeable. When she confided in me, I helped her take back control. We adjusted her privacy settings, filtered harmful content, and built a support system of positive influences. I also helped build her confidence and we practiced responses to handle in-person bullying without escalating conflicts. Over time, she started standing up for herself, reconnecting with friends who supported her, and engaging in activities she loved without fear of judgment. Seeing her regain confidence proved to me that the right guidance can completely change someone’s outlook. My path in helping children isn’t just about passion, it’s also about overcoming financial challenges. My parents and I work hard, but the rising cost of tuition has made it impossible to afford college without aid. Despite these challenges, I refuse to let financial limitations hold me back. My determination to get my degree comes from knowing that my education is the key to unlocking my potential and giving back to my community. This scholarship would relieve some of the financial burden and allow me to focus on my studies and serving others. With my degree I can do more than just a career; I fulfill a calling. I want to be an advocate for students who feel unheard, a mentor for those struggling with self-doubt, and a resource for kids facing bullying in any form. With the support of this scholarship, I will be one step closer to achieving my dream. I plan to develop anti-bullying programs that focus on both in-person and online threats, equipping students with the tools they need to protect themselves and others. In doing so, I hope to inspire the next generation to lead with empathy, courage, and a commitment to making the world a safer place.

I first saw the importance of inner empowerment at fourteen when my family moved to West Africa. We stayed four years and volunteered to assist a medical clinic, literacy center, and a guesthouse. The experience was jarring and transformative. I found myself in a whole new world, where I was set apart because I did not speak the local language and by my accent and skin color. Yet, in this struggle, I discovered my inner strength and a passion for helping others. While in West Africa, I witnessed local women, many of whom were educated and capable, struggle with extremely high unemployment rates. I met a talented woman with the skills and ambition to lead, yet she was forced into low-paying, unstable work simply because opportunities were scarce. Watching these women fight against systemic barriers made it clear that empowerment is essential for economic progress and community well-being. Their struggles drove home the importance of education and financial support in breaking the cycle of poverty. It showed me that if women are empowered, their innovations and leadership could benefit entire communities. My leadership experiences in school further solidified my belief in empowerment. I took roles in student clubs and community volunteer groups, such as leading a women’s literature book club and a charity giveaway project. I always strived to create environments where everyone feels heard and valued. These experiences taught me how to listen, communicate effectively, and inspire my peers to work together for a common goal. They also reinforced that true leadership means helping others find their strength, even when circumstances seem overwhelming. Empowerment means having the freedom to choose and the strength to overcome any obstacle. It means using my voice to inspire change and lift others as I rise. Empowerment affects every aspect of my life. It is the fuel that drives me to break barriers, pursue higher education, and lead with integrity. It drives me to challenge traditional expectations and push past limitations. Financial support is the key that unlocks the door to opportunity for all the talented women who face daily barriers. I am passionate about using my education to make a difference. This scholarship will help me to further my education and passion for psychology. These funds will allow me to start my degree to meet my true goal of becoming a guidance counselor. I dream of empowering young women to give them the confidence and support to achieve their goals. No matter their age, every woman deserves the chance to lead, innovate, and transform her community. Empowerment is not just about personal achievement; it is about ensuring that no talent is lost because of financial limitations.

My dream career is a middle school guidance counselor who makes a real difference in students' lives. I plan to create supportive spaces for young people. I want to help students find their strengths and overcome their challenges. I will design programs that focus on mental health, cultural integration, and resilience. I believe every student deserves someone who listens and cares especially when their life feels topsy turvy. At fourteen, I packed my life into a suitcase and moved to West Africa. I had no choice; my parents decided, and I followed. It felt less like an adventure and more like a sentence. I left behind my school, friends, family, lifestyle, and everything I knew. In exchange, I got a foreign world that didn’t know what to do with me. The first thing that hit me was the isolation. I did not speak the local language, and the culture significantly differed from America. I stuck out wherever I went due to my accent and skin color. Children would even call out Toubob whenever I passed, which means “white person” in their language. I tried to blend in, but no matter what I did, I felt like I didn’t belong. I’ve always been loud. Not in an obnoxious way, just expressive and theatrical. Back in the U.S., my energy made me approachable. I spoke my mind, drew people into conversations, and filled silences effortlessly. But in West Africa, my ‘loudness’ didn’t translate. Here, people spoke softly, moved with quiet confidence, and carried themselves with reserved politeness. My enthusiasm, so natural back home, suddenly felt like a crime. I worked hard to find a balance. I learned to listen more and to observe before speaking. Slowly, I found friends who appreciated my energy once they understood it was genuine. I learned that I did not have to change who I was. I only needed to change how I expressed myself. This experience taught me valuable lessons in empathy, patience, and adaptation. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood and isolated. I want to use these lessons as a guidance counselor to help students navigate academic pressure and cultural differences. I will work to build environments where every student feels heard and valued. I will make sure that young people have the support they need to turn their struggles into strengths. I am determined to use my career to honor the spirit of Valerie Rabb. I will work hard to uplift and support students, just as she did for so many children. I will bring the same passion and commitment to my work that I learned during my time in West Africa. I know that through hard work and genuine care, I can help students overcome adversity and reach their full potential.

Cancer isn’t just something I read about in textbooks or see in fundraisers. It left its mark on my family, shaping how I view health, life, and the future. My uncle died from pancreatic cancer. My great-grandpa survived stomach cancer but lost his life thirty years later to tentacular cancer. My great-aunt died from cervical cancer, and my great-uncle lost his battle with lung cancer. Most recently, my aunt fought appendix cancer and survived. Some of my family members had time to prepare. Others were gone before we could process what had happened. Watching cancer take so much from my family has shown me that no one is immune. It’s not a question of whether cancer will touch your life, but when. Losing family members to cancer forces me to think ahead and stay aware. Early detection can mean the difference between life and death. My great-grandpa caught his stomach cancer in time to survive, but others in my family weren’t as lucky. Some didn’t realize anything was wrong until it was too late. Cancer grows quietly, often unnoticed until it has spread too far. That’s why I treat knowledge as a weapon. The more I know, the better chance I have to protect myself and others. Preventing and detecting cancer starts with education. Routine screenings, healthy lifestyle choices, and genetic testing save lives. Some cancers are impossible to prevent, but many can be caught early if people take screenings seriously. Too many ignore warning signs or assume they’re safe because they feel fine. I refuse to take that risk. My family’s history forces me to stay proactive, not just for myself but for those around me. I talk to my family about regular check-ups, and I study what I can do to lower my own risk. Genetic testing plays a crucial role in cancer prevention. My family hasn’t done genetic testing, but I recognize its value. If my relatives had known more about their genetic risks, maybe they could have taken preventive steps. A simple test provides life-saving information, yet too many people don’t have access to it. The more we spread awareness, the more lives we can save. Genetic testing gives people control over their health before cancer has a chance to spread. More people need that opportunity. I deserve this scholarship because I refuse to let cancer define my family’s story. I use my experiences to help others, whether by spreading awareness, encouraging early detection, or advocating for better education. Cancer has taken enough from my family. I want to turn my knowledge into action. This scholarship would help me continue my education and work toward a future where more people understand how to prevent and detect cancer early. The more we talk about it; the fewer families will have to go through what mine has.

A college education is a necessity for me. I grew up knowing that college was a good start to a better life but that I could never afford it. My parents did not have the chance to attend college. They worked hard, but financial struggles forced them to prioritize survival over schooling. That didn’t stop them from making sure I understood its value. They wanted me to have the choices they never had. I dream of walking across a college campus with textbooks in my arms, not just for myself but for my family. I want to leave a legacy that, through hard work, perseverance, and more than a few all-nighters, could break the cycle. Being the first in my family to go to college is about setting a precedent for my younger siblings and future generations. I want them to grow up knowing that higher education is achievable. Living in West Africa for four years opened my eyes even more to the power of education. I saw firsthand how many women never had the chance to go to school, forced instead into early marriages or domestic roles with no other options. It wasn’t because they lacked intelligence or drive; there were only expensive private schools, and no one ever told them they could be more. That experience changed me. I realized that education isn’t just about personal success. It’s about having the ability to choose your future, something so many people, especially women, are never given the chance to do. Seeing that reality made my pursuit of education feel even more urgent. If I am given the funds to get an education to learn, grow, and change my future, I won’t waste it. Beyond my education, I want to use my experiences to help others in similar situations. My dream career is to become a guidance counselor, working with students who feel lost in the process like I once did. I want to be the person who reassures them that their dreams are possible, regardless of financial struggles or lack of family experience in higher education. I want to ensure that no student feels like they have to figure it all out alone. This scholarship isn’t just financial support for me; it is an investment in future students who will walk into my office someday, unsure of their path. It will allow me to focus on my studies instead of worrying about how to pay for them, giving me the chance to turn my vision into reality. With this degree, I’ll change my life and the lives of every student I help. I am changing my family’s legacy by breaking barriers, setting new standards, and proving that education isn’t just for the wealthy. It is for those who refuse to give up, no matter how difficult the road ahead may seem. I will go to college, succeed, and make sure others do, too.

Jack Terry’s story is one of survival, perseverance, and resilience. Despite unimaginable loss and hardship, he rebuilt his life, pursued education, and dedicated himself to helping others. His journey inspires me because, while my struggles are nowhere near as severe, I understand what it means to feel out of place in an unfamiliar world and fight to find my place there. At fourteen, I packed my life into a suitcase and moved to West Africa. I had no choice; my parents decided, and I followed. It felt less like an adventure and more like a sentence. I left behind my school, friends, family, lifestyle, and everything I knew. In exchange, I got a foreign world that didn’t quite know what to do with me. I’ve always been loud. Not in an obnoxious way, just expressive and theatrical. Back in the U.S., my energy made me approachable. I effortlessly made friends, drew people into conversations, and filled silences. But in West Africa, my ‘loudness’ didn’t translate. There, people spoke softly, moved with quiet confidence, and carried themselves with reserved politeness. My enthusiasm, so natural back home, suddenly felt like a crime. At first, I didn’t understand why making friends felt impossible. People were polite but distant. They smiled at me but rarely invited me in. I would crack a joke, expecting laughter, only to be met with uncomfortable glances. I’d launch into a story, only to realize too late that I was the only one speaking. It took me far too long to understand what was happening. No one would say it outright, but I could feel how people edged away when I got too animated, in how they nodded instead of engaging. My natural personality, which had always made it easy to connect with others, was now a barrier. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn’t just struggling to adjust to a new country; I was struggling to be myself. I wanted to shrink, to make myself smaller, quieter, more acceptable. But that wasn’t me. Instead, I had to learn balance. I had to read the room, gauge when my energy was too much, and adapt. I practiced listening more and observing instead of immediately jumping in. Slowly, people started warming up to me. I found friends who appreciated my enthusiasm once they understood it wasn’t aggression. I learned I didn’t have to change who I was, just how I expressed it. Jack Terry’s story reminds me that perseverance matters no matter how difficult the circumstances. He refused to let his past define him, choosing to push forward, learn, and help others. Based on my time in West Africa, I want to do the same, which forced me to adapt and grow in ways I never expected. Through this experience, I understand what it means to feel misunderstood and isolated and to struggle to connect with the world. This is why I want to give back by working as a guidance counselor, helping students who feel lost and how to overcome internal and external struggles. I want to create a space where they feel heard and learn to navigate challenges without losing themselves. Just as I had to learn balance, I want to teach others how to embrace who they are while also understanding the world around them. Jack Terry used his hardships to bring hope to others. I want to follow that example, not just by succeeding myself but by helping others find their path forward.

At fourteen, I packed my life into a suitcase and moved to West Africa. I had no choice; my parents decided, and I followed. It felt less like an adventure and more like a sentence. I left behind my school, friends, family, lifestyle, and everything I knew. In exchange, I got a foreign world that didn’t know what to do with me. The first thing that hit me was the isolation. I didn’t speak the local language, and the culture significantly differed from America. I stuck out wherever I went due to my accent and skin color. Children would even call out Toubob whenever I passed, which means “white person” in their language. I tried to blend in, but no matter what I did, I felt like I didn’t belong. I’ve always been loud. Not in an obnoxious way, just expressive and theatrical. Back in the U.S., my energy made me approachable. I spoke my mind, drew people into conversations, and filled silences effortlessly. But in West Africa, my ‘loudness’ didn’t translate. Here, people spoke softly, moved with quiet confidence, and carried themselves with reserved politeness. My enthusiasm, so natural back home, suddenly felt like a crime. At first, I didn’t understand why making friends felt impossible. People were polite but distant. They smiled at me but rarely invited me in. I would crack a joke, expecting laughter, only to be met with uncomfortable glances. I’d launch into a story, only to realize too late that I was the only one speaking. It took me far too long to understand what was happening. No one would say it outright, but I could feel it in how people edged away when I got too animated, in how they nodded instead of engaging. My natural personality, which had always made it easy to connect with others, was now a barrier. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn’t just struggling to adjust to a new country; I was struggling to be myself. I wanted to shrink, to make myself smaller, quieter, more acceptable. But that wasn’t me. Instead, I had to learn balance. I had to read the room, gauge when my energy was too much, and adapt. I practiced listening more and observing instead of immediately jumping in. Slowly, people started warming up to me. I found friends who appreciated my enthusiasm once they understood it wasn’t aggression. I learned I didn’t have to change who I was, just how I expressed it. My time in West Africa forced me to adapt in ways I never expected. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced, but it made me a better person. Now, as I prepare for college, I know I can handle whatever challenges come my way. I’ve already learned how to find my place in unfamiliar spaces and proven to myself that I can adapt without losing who I am.

My teenage years in West Africa were anything but typical. However, they were exactly what I needed to find my purpose. Volunteering with my family as guesthouse assistants, I spent countless hours scrubbing floors, fixing beds, and learning how to make instant coffee sound like a gourmet offering to weary travelers. It was humbling, rewarding, and occasionally chaotic. (Ever tried explaining to a jet-lagged stranger why their room key mysteriously disappeared? Spoiler: it’s usually in their pocket.) It’s incredible how much brighter someone’s day can get when greeted with a warm smile or a cup of questionable coffee. These four years inspired my plan to make a positive impact on the world: starting my own charity to improve access to mental health resources and teach practical skills in underserved communities. Why mental health? Because it’s everywhere, it’s everything, yet so many people are left to figure it out alone. My mission is equipping people with the tools to manage their emotions, make thoughtful decisions, and build better habits. The type of skills that can transform individuals and entire communities. The plan starts with partnering with schools, churches, and local organizations to determine where help is most needed. The charity would offer problem-solving, communication, and coping techniques workshops because life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. Peer support groups would provide safe spaces to practice these skills. At the same time, affordable counseling services would ensure that deeper issues don’t go unaddressed. Volunteers would play a key role by providing practical help. For example, arranging transportation to workshops, mentoring in skill-building sessions, and offering childcare so parents can attend. Eventually, I would work to establish mobile units to bring these services to rural areas where access to resources is limited. This vision is inspired by my belief that growth comes from equipping people with practical tools and breaking down barriers that limit their potential. By focusing on these areas, the charity could help individuals build resilience and contribute to stronger, healthier communities. But let’s be real: change doesn’t happen overnight. If it did, my alarm clock wouldn’t need three snooze buttons to drag me out of bed in the morning. Progress takes time, patience, and a lot of work. It’s like building a house; you can’t skip the foundation and hope the roof holds up. This is why I’m pursuing a double major in counseling and child-life psychology at Liberty University. I want to combine practical knowledge with firsthand experience to build a strong foundation for my future charity. This scholarship would be a vote of confidence in my ability to make this dream a reality. My years in West Africa taught me that even the smallest gestures can ripple outward, creating change far beyond what we imagine. With the right tools, the right people, and just a pinch of stubborn optimism, I’m confident we can build a world where everyone has the opportunity to thrive, even if it means starting with a cup of (better) coffee.

While physical healthcare is vital to society, mental healthcare is equally important and often overlooked. I have seen how untreated mental health struggles negatively ripple through families and communities. However, I have also seen how the right support can transform lives. During my four years volunteering in West Africa, I learned that small actions can lead to significant change. Whether it’s helping a family navigate a tough situation or raising awareness about mental health, I have seen the power of compassion paired with practical solutions. These experiences fueled my commitment to make mental health care more accessible and effective for those who need it most. I am a high school senior with a strong interest in psychology. I plan to pursue a double major in counseling and child-life psychology at Liberty University, where I have already been accepted. My goal is to become a guidance counselor because I believe the best way to address mental health challenges is to start early. Children and adolescents need tools to cope with stress, regulate their emotions, and make decisions that lead to healthier futures. With early intervention, we can change the trajectory of a person’s life. I want to be the kind of counselor who not only listens but teaches skills that empower young people to take charge of their emotional well-being. One of my life goals is to start my own charity, focusing on improving access to mental health resources, emphasizing practical skill-building in underserved communities. The mission would be to help individuals develop strategies for managing their emotions, improving decision-making, and creating better habits. These tools would teach people to take control of their circumstances, emotions, and behavior to make lasting changes. To bring this vision to life, I would start by partnering with schools, churches, and local organizations to identify areas in need. The charity would host workshops on problem-solving, communication, and coping techniques. Peer support groups would provide a space to practice these skills in real-life situations, and affordable counseling services would be available for additional support. Volunteers would play a key role by providing practical help. For example, arranging transportation to workshops, mentoring in skill-building sessions, and offering childcare so parents can attend. Eventually, I would work to establish mobile units to bring these services to rural areas where access to resources is limited. This vision is inspired by my belief that growth comes from equipping people with practical tools and breaking down barriers that limit their potential. By focusing on these areas, the charity could help individuals build resilience and contribute to stronger, healthier communities. With the support of this scholarship, I can take the next step in my education and turn this vision into a reality that strengthens individuals and communities alike.

I am a high school senior with a strong interest in psychology. I plan to pursue a double major in counseling and child-life psychology at Liberty University, where I have already been accepted. My long-term goal is to work as a guidance counselor, helping adolescents overcome challenges and develop the skills they need to succeed in life. I also plan to balance my career with raising a family, instilling values of responsibility, resilience, and service in my children. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was 15. While it started as a hobby, it is now a way for me to share ideas about topics I care deeply about, like morality and justice. I am actively working on publishing my first book, a project that taught me patience and discipline. Writing allows me to explore human behavior and create stories that encourage people to think about the consequences of their actions. My most life-changing experiences came during my time in West Africa, where I spent four years as a missionary kid. That time taught me the importance of personal responsibility and how practical support can empower people to build better futures. For example, I befriended a girl whose parents had abandoned her and left her with nothing. She faced significant obstacles, but with my family’s support and the kindness of the local community, we helped her continue her education and put a roof over her head. Experiences like this shaped my desire to help others build the tools they need to overcome adversity and thrive. If I could start my own charity, it would focus on improving access to mental health resources with an emphasis on practical skill-building in underserved communities. The mission would be to help individuals develop strategies for managing their emotions, improving decision-making, and creating better habits. These tools would teach people to take control of their circumstances, emotions, and behavior to make lasting changes. To bring this vision to life, I would start by partnering with schools, churches, and local organizations to identify areas in need. The charity would host workshops on problem-solving, communication, and coping techniques. Peer support groups would provide a space to practice these skills in real-life situations, and affordable counseling services would be available for additional support. Volunteers would play a key role, such as arranging transportation to workshops, mentoring participants in skill-building sessions, and offering childcare to help parents attend. Eventually, I would work to establish mobile units to bring these services to rural areas where access to resources is limited. This vision is inspired by my belief that growth comes from equipping people with practical tools and breaking down barriers that limit their potential. By focusing on these areas, the charity could help individuals build resilience and contribute to stronger, healthier communities.

As a first-generation college student from a blue-collar family, earning a degree will impact my life and the lives of my future generations. I spent my teen years in The Gambia, West Africa where I saw firsthand how lack of access to education due to financial struggles limited opportunities for many youths. Witnessing this taught me to value the chance to attend college and not take the opportunity for granted. Growing up in a low-income household, I understand the financial barriers to pursuing higher education. While my parents worked tirelessly to provide for my siblings, their focus was on meeting immediate needs rather than saving for long-term goals like college. Like the families I grew up around in The Gambia, I need financial support to make this dream a reality. A college degree is more than a goal for me; it’s a symbol of breaking barriers and creating new opportunities for myself, my family, and the communities I hope to serve. Personally, a degree means empowerment and purpose. I aim to pursue psychology and become a guidance counselor, helping children navigate challenges and discover their potential. My experiences in The Gambia shaped this passion. While volunteering at a children’s clinic, I organized medical supplies and worked with families who struggled to access even basic necessities. I also refereed youth soccer games and led plays, experiences that taught me how encouragement and structure can help children thrive. These moments showed me how much of a difference small acts of guidance and support can make in a child’s life. A college degree will enable me to turn these experiences into a lifelong career, giving me the tools to better understand and address the needs of children. Beyond personal growth, my degree will also set a new standard for my family. As the first to attend college, I hope to inspire others to dream big and pursue their goals, no matter the obstacles. My gratitude for the opportunity to attend college is matched only by my determination to make the most of it. I want to take what I’ve learned from my upbringing in The Gambia and my family’s hard work and use it to create a brighter future. A college education is not just a personal milestone—it’s the foundation for building a life of purpose and creating change that ripples through generations. With financial support, I can turn this opportunity into a reality, not only changing my life but inspiring others to believe in the transformative power of education.

The Jim Coots Scholarship will help me pursue my degree in psychology and my dream of becoming a guidance counselor focused on mental health and holistic healing. Growing up as a missionary kid in The Gambia, West Africa, I learned how health extends far beyond the physical—it also includes mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being. I witnessed how neglecting one part of a person’s health creates a ripple effect, making it impossible to achieve balance and peace. This funding will alleviate the financial stress of attending college, allowing me to focus on developing the skills and knowledge needed to help others. As a first-generation college student from a blue-collar family, I understand how limited resources can impact access to education. This scholarship will enable me to dedicate myself to my studies and deepen my understanding of holistic practices that address the whole person, not just their symptoms. In my career, I hope to empower children and teenagers to overcome challenges by teaching them tools that address their entire well-being. Many young people face overwhelming stress and anxiety but are often only given solutions that treat surface-level symptoms. I want to go deeper by introducing techniques like mindfulness, emotional regulation, and spiritual reflection. These practices can help young people find balance, build confidence, and develop long-term resilience. My upbringing showed me how spirituality provides strength and stability during tough times. Whether through prayer, quiet reflection, or connecting with a higher purpose, spirituality often gives people hope when they feel lost. I want to bring this same sense of grounding and support to the kids and families I work with. While not every child or family may embrace spirituality, I believe offering it as part of a holistic approach can help those who are open to it feel more connected and secure. Beyond individual care, I aim to advocate for schools and communities to integrate holistic health practices into their approach to mental health. Schools are often the first places where children face emotional struggles, but current systems focus primarily on academics and discipline. I believe we can do better by creating environments where kids feel safe discussing their emotions and seeking help when they need it. Programs like mindfulness workshops, peer support groups, and relaxation spaces can make schools more welcoming and supportive for all students. The inspiration for this vision comes from Jim Coots’ life of service and dedication to helping others. His commitment to healing and compassion resonates deeply with me. Like him, I want to make a difference by supporting individuals, families, and communities in finding balance and wellness. This scholarship will help me gain the education I need to start this journey and turn my passion into a reality. Holistic health is often overlooked in traditional mental health care, but I believe it has the power to create lasting change. By addressing mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual needs, we can help people not only heal but thrive. With the support of this scholarship, I will honor Jim Coots’ legacy by creating a ripple effect of healing that impacts generations to come.

For years, I battled intrusive thoughts controlling my thoughts and sometimes my actions. They appeared out of nowhere, constantly questioning my worth and abilities. On top of that, I struggle with narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). Some days, I felt like a useless failure, on others, I felt invincible, and worthy of all worship and attention. This exhausting cycle pushed me into procrastination and avoidance, making me feel even worse. I sought validation from others, hoping it would silence the doubts in my head. At the same time, my god-complex created an unrealistic pressure to maintain perfection. The public perception of me as confident and secure only made it harder because I had to live up to a fictitious image of myself. Eventually, I found a way to cope through writing. At first, it was just a way to distract myself, but it became so much more. It gave me a safe space to explore my thoughts and emotions and turn all the noise in my head into something productive. When I put my struggles into characters, I could understand them better and take control of the chaos. I used to procrastinate and avoid challenges because I was scared of failing, but setting small goals in my writing showed me I could follow through and succeed. These victories helped me gain real confidence, not just the kind I put on for show. As I built their stories, I started to feel secure with what I was creating—and, in turn, secure with myself. Eventually, I found a way to cope through writing. At first, it was just a distraction, but it became a lifeline. Writing gave me a safe space to explore my thoughts and emotions. By channeling my struggles into characters, I started to understand them better and gained control of the chaos. Setting small goals in my writing taught me to face challenges instead of avoiding them, and each little success built my real confidence—not the kind I put on for show. As I developed my characters’ stories, I started feeling secure in what I created and, in turn, secure with myself. Therapy also played a big role in my journey. It gave me tools to challenge my negative thoughts—whether self-doubt or an inflated sense of self—and bring myself back to reality. Slowly, I started noticing improvements. I wasn’t as hard on myself, and I felt more capable of handling challenges. It also helped me realize that seeking help wasn’t a sign of weakness but a step toward growth. My journey hasn’t been perfect, and I still have bad days. But I’ve learned to see my struggles as opportunities to grow. They’ve made me stronger and more determined to help others. That’s why I’m so passionate about mental health because I know how isolating it can feel when you think no one understands what you’re going through. Dealing with mental health issues is never easy, but it’s possible to find ways to manage and grow from them. Through writing, therapy, and persistence, I’ve found ways to manage my NPD and intrusive thoughts, and I’ve learned to embrace the parts of me I once wanted to hide. Now, I’m focused on helping others find their own strength, just like I found mine.

Bullying and harassment in K-12 schools happen daily, but they present an opportunity to teach resilience. Instead of trying to stop every instance of bullying, I will equip children to confront it. I want to give them tools to stand tall, hold their ground, and face challenges with courage. A bullied generation that learns to push through adversity will grow into strong, capable members of society. I have seen how confidence transforms how children respond to negativity. As a soccer referee, I watched kids crumble under criticism while others stood firm, turning into a means of determined motivation. When necessary, I stepped in to encourage those who felt small and reinforced fairness to show them they had someone in their corner. Leading youth plays, I pushed shy participants to step into the spotlight, praising their efforts and help push them out of their comfort zone. These moments taught me that children must face tough situations to grow, but they thrive when they feel valued and supported. As a future guidance counselor, I will design programs that teach children to handle bullying without losing their self-worth. I will guide them to stand up for themselves, navigate conflict, and rebuild their self-esteem when it falters. I know bullying will never vanish entirely, but we can prepare children to face it without fear. I will also work to simplify the complex mental health care process for children and families. Right now, many parents give up before finding help because the system overwhelms them. I will create programs that blend mental health education into the curriculum, giving children strategies to process their emotions long before they feel overwhelmed. I aim to train educators to spot signs of bullying and emotional distress, equipping them to respond quickly and effectively. Teachers see what happens in the hallways and classrooms, and with the right tools, they can intervene before problems escalate. We may never erase bullying, but we can reshape its impact. I want to give children the confidence to stand tall when others try to knock them down, the courage to ask for help when they need it, and the skills to move forward stronger. Through guidance counseling, I will help children not only withstand bullying but grow from it. By teaching resilience and emotional security, I hope to transform how schools address bullying and mental health. Together, we can raise a generation of confident, capable individuals who face challenges with strength and grace.

As a first-generation college student from a blue-collar family, earning a degree will impact my life and the lives of my future generations. I spent my teen years in The Gambia, West Africa where I saw firsthand how lack of access to education due to financial struggles limited opportunities for many youths. Witnessing this taught me to value the chance to attend college and not take the opportunity for granted. Growing up in a low-income household, I understand the financial barriers to pursuing higher education. While my parents worked tirelessly to provide for my siblings, their focus was on meeting immediate needs rather than saving for long-term goals like college. Like the families I grew up around in The Gambia, I need financial support to make this dream a reality. A college degree is more than a goal for me; it’s a symbol of breaking barriers and creating new opportunities for myself, my family, and the communities I hope to serve. Personally, a degree means empowerment and purpose. I aim to pursue psychology and become a guidance counselor, helping children navigate challenges and discover their potential. My experiences in The Gambia shaped this passion. While volunteering at a children’s clinic, I organized medical supplies and worked with families who struggled to access even basic necessities. I also refereed youth soccer games and led plays, experiences that taught me how encouragement and structure can help children thrive. These moments showed me how much of a difference small acts of guidance and support can make in a child’s life. A college degree will enable me to turn these experiences into a lifelong career, giving me the tools to better understand and address the needs of children. Beyond personal growth, my degree will also set a new standard for my family. As the first to attend college, I hope to inspire others to dream big and pursue their goals, no matter the obstacles. My gratitude for the opportunity to attend college is matched only by my determination to make the most of it. I want to take what I’ve learned from my upbringing in The Gambia and my family’s hard work and use it to create a brighter future. A college education is not just a personal milestone—it’s the foundation for building a life of purpose and creating change that ripples through generations. With financial support, I can turn this opportunity into a reality, not only changing my life but inspiring others to believe in the transformative power of education.